


château d'Yquem

by lqbys



Series: rather you than tequila [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, wine tasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 20:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lqbys/pseuds/lqbys
Summary: ‘I’m going to puke all over your smug fucking Gucci coat.’





	château d'Yquem

Minghao’s always been told his taste buds couldn’t possibly be human. As in, there can be no way, in earth heaven and hell combined all together, a living, breathing and existing being can enjoy the stuff he enjoys. 

He’s always respectfully (no, fuck all of them) disagreed.

People are just pussies. People are usually pussies, and he’s able to love most things they don’t, but this time… Even him can’t possibly defend _this_.

‘Now, please write down what you thought of Number 19.’

Taking his pen, he casts a glance at Mingyu, sitting a few tables away. He’s making some faces, the ones he pulls when something’s absolutely terrible and he cannot even believe he’s had to put it inside his mouth. Minghao’s lips stretch just enough.

_Tastes like my mom’s morning breath after she’s spent the night downing rosé-milk shots_

Easy stuff. He puts the pen down.

‘Sir, we’re not finished, you can’t leave now—’

‘I’ve had fucking enough.’ When Minghao looks up, he sees Mingyu standing. He looks distressed, the _I-might-just-die-right-fucking-now_ kind of distressed. ‘God, I’m going to puke.’

And then he’s running, thirty something pair of eyes burning holes on his back. The elderly starts whispering and shaking their head, and the round, flushed woman in charge of announcing stuff clears her throat.

A swift motion of her hand, and she says, ‘Well. Let us continue. The last bottle… Sir!’

Minghao’s grin is taking all over his face. He doesn’t look back when called, and leaves a room full of rich, stuck-up middle-aged to chase after Mingyu. He finds him facing himself in the common toilets, both hands clutching the sink so tight his knuckles are turning white.

He walks until he’s standing right beside, slaps Mingyu’s back hard enough to make him cry out loud and curse. ‘What, can’t handle your fucking wine anymore?’

‘I’m going to puke all over your smug fucking Gucci coat.’

Minghao doesn’t know whether it’s a threat or a friendly warning, but, honest to god, he doesn’t care either way. The coat is stolen for the day. The coat is anything but what Minghao would usually wear. He just couldn’t keep walking with his hands stuffed inside his pockets when that store in Gangnam was displaying it so pretty and easy to access. 

He slides behind Mingyu, chin resting on his left shoulder as his arms snake around his waist. ‘Suit yourself, Bambi.’

He’s got a middle finger as an answer and Minghao accepts that, bites down gently on it. 

Three days earlier, at Wonwoo’s birthday party, the man himself mentioned something about Seoul’s next wine tasting event, if they were going or not. They glanced at him, then glanced at each other, and smiled one of those smile which secrets they keep for themselves. So Wonwoo looked at them funny, snatching the joint from Soonyoung, before shrugging. It was settled. 

That explains this. 

There’s a huge mirror in front of them, still Mingyu cranes his neck to look at him, mouth tugging down. ‘I need a five fucking course meal to forget about that. It’s like, the whole thing was us trying to decide which bottle would make us want to die first. Whose fucking shitstain of an idea was it?’ 

‘Yours.’ Minghao’s lips find his jaw, leaving wet kisses all over it. 

There’s the sound of his mouth against his skin and those of Mingyu, throaty, when his left hand slips inside his underwear and palms him suddenly.

‘Then I’m an asshole,’ Mingyu all but blurts out, melting in seconds under his touch.

Minghao grins.

‘I know.’

The rest is usual stuff, fucking in posh, pink marble bathrooms to scare old people, then escaping with belts open and pants hanging low breathless and laughing as security chased them around town. Minghao snatched a few nameless bottles along the way – stuffed ‘em in the hidden, huge pockets of his Gucci coat.

Maybe, just maybe he should wear those more often.


End file.
